Addiction
by Sunshine-M
Summary: When Watson and Holmes decide to give the Holmes bloodline an heir, nothing goes according to plan. REPOST. No copyright infringement intended. Please R&R, Holmes/Watson
1. Chapter 1

"I am not selfish," Joan repeated to herself. "I don't do selfish. I am straight and I don't lie."

Yet, why was she so torn up then?

1.1.1

It had started out of the blue. Well, not completely out of the blue either. Agatha Spurrel made a reappearance in their lives after sometimes, and asked Sherlock again for his sperm for a child.

The first time around, though she would have never dared say it, Joan had thought that if anyone should have his heir, it should have been her, though she would have had trouble justifying it. It was just a thought she had and that lingered with her for a while. Therefore, when Agatha asked again, and Sherlock told her about it, she was only partly surprised to hear herself respond:

"I know she's one of your most regular Irregular, but if anyone should give birth to your spawn, it should be me."

Sherlock did not even blink upon hearing her, and much to her surprise, he nodded along.

"Come on Watson," he told her when he caught the surprise in her eyes, "what is causing your disarray? Truthfully, if anyone should carry my "spawn", as you say, well, I would want it to be you."

"I thought you did not want any children to have you as a father."

"Well, only fools never change their mind. I am not saying I want a child at all costs, I just thought about it, against my better judgement when my father was there, and it appeared to me that if an heir was to be produced, it would need a great mother to make up for my failures…"

"I don't think you would be as terrible a father as you believe… You were very good with Kitty," she said.

"I thank you. Back on the topic, I figured that you would be the perfect mother for said heir. You have perfect features, and your intelligence would be another asset for a hypothetical child."

And there was that. This discussion remained on her mind for a long time, and she found herself wondering what their child would look like. She had never wanted children, but as he had said, only a fool never changed his or her mind. The thought would pop into her mind when she would have trouble falling asleep.

Then one day, she realized something.

He had never voiced it out, for he was always careful never to impose anything on her, but during their talk, he had given her clues that suddenly seemed very obvious. He was open to the idea of having a child. It was not something he was running away from anymore. And he wanted her to be the mother.

Sherlock was open to the idea of having a child with her. For him to have come to terms with his insecurities as the kind of father he would be meant he had thought about it at length.

This almost made no sense, the lives they were leading… Their incapacity to be in relationships… Except… Except they had been living together for five years. It was a relationship of some sort, right?

Before she could realize or convince herself that it was a bad idea, she went downstairs where she knew Sherlock was brooding, and she stood in the doorstep, waiting for him to notice she was there. He gave her a look, and she said:

"Let's do it."

"Ok. What?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she said. "You planted a seed in my mind, and as I say that I am aware of a metaphor that could follow that was not intended, but you planted an idea, and let me decide if I was up for it. I have. Let's do it. Let's bring your possibly evil - if it takes after its grandfather – spawn into this world."

"Watson…"

"I'm sure." She said, before he could ask her. She was not rushing things because she thought she would decide against the idea if she was given more time to think about it, it was about having the nerves to voice it out loud, to acknowledge this degree of intimacy between them, this degree of trust. They never did that. Sure, he had once told her he needed the Watson to his Holmes when she had been retreating into a dark place, but she knew how much it must have costed him to actually open up.

She had come and taken a seat, and they had started planning how they would proceed, scientifically, as if anything else could be expected from the two of them. They discarded right away the idea of using a turkey baster, though it could have been a way to proceed, but it felt too cold given the magnitude of what they were planning.

He would come into her bed, and they would have sex.

She would have been lying if she had pretended she had not felt a thrill at the idea, excitement paired with nervousness.

They talked about silly topics in comparison, like the fact that the baby would have her last name, so that Morland would never be sure if his son's companion had given him a grandchild or if she had had a baby on her own. She wondered if the baby should wear her last name or his as far as her family was concerned, but she quickly realized that even if she was feeling as though she was giving in to her mother's wishes, it was in fact far from being the case and that, truth be told, her mother was not a factor in any of this.

He begged her to take one more night before they did anything, and that if she were still on board with the idea, she would let her bedroom door open the next night and he would know.

So she took the extra day, which she spent on pins and needles, and when she said goodnight, she went up the stairs, put on a pajama, and made sure he could hear from below that the door never closed. A short while later, he came to join her.

"Are you sure?" He asked her one last time as he stood on the doorstep.

She didn't answer, only got up and grabbed his hand, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him.

The sex… Well, when Sherlock had boasted about being an excellent lover, he had not been lying and she had a few tricks up her sleeves. At first, she had wondered if they would do it clinically, but he had told her that doing his part while she waited for him to be done felt too much like a 19thcentury marriage, and rape in his mind. She had never wanted them to actually proceed that way, but she had felt compelled to ask when they had been talking hypothetical. When in her bedroom, it became obvious that it had never been an option.

They would have sex, often more than once, and when they were done, she would go to sleep and he would go do whatever he did when it was nighttime.

Sex with Sherlock was mind-blowing. It kept her wanting more, and he would deliver the following night. During the day, though she had feared this new arrangement would seriously impair their relationship, they both behaved in their usual fashion, and it did not feel forced at all. She knew he was good at compartmentalizing, and she had learnt the same when a doctor, but she still had the distinct feeling that they did not need that. Perhaps, before they became lovers, they had already reached the same level of intimacy.

It did not matter. They were making a baby, or so she had to tell herself when he would go down on her and made her come twice before entering her. She had told him he did not need to do it, and he had looked at her like he was hurt. He told her that he would not cheapen his sexual skills by not trying his best, even if they were "only" trying for a baby. He had added something about the fact that since they were being monogamous until the child was conceived, he did not want to let his skills go to waste.

Oh yeah, they were "exclusive". They both had a perfect bill of health, which Joan had conducted during the day when Sherlock had wanted her to think it through. She had had a friend run the test as fast as possible, as there would be no protection. Being exclusive had been his idea. Truth be told, she had been expecting to only apply to her, as she was the one who needed to be able to be sure the child she was carrying was Sherlock's, no matter how archaic it sounded, but he had insisted that he would not see any of his Irregular during their time, as he was a firm believer in sharing responsibilities.

She learnt to know his body, his scars, and his tattoos. She learnt what made him go wild, and she was able to turn the tables on him on several occasions. She was no virgin, and had learnt a few tricks he had discovered and praised her for it.

It was working perfectly.

Except one day, Sherlock had been called by his father and had had no choice but to go to London, where he learnt that Morland was dying. On her side of the Atlantic, Joan had gone through a much milder ordeal in comparison, but it had shaken her to her core: she was late. She found herself using one of the pregnancy test which had "mysteriously" appeared in the bathroom, and the three minutes she waited were the longest in her life.

On the one hand, being pregnant was the reason why they relations hip had shifted, but at the same time, she was terrified at the idea that this would mean no more of … all of it. When it turned out negative, she felt elation and hated herself for it. It was just an arrangement, a very agreeable one for sure, but she could not cheer when they did not achieve what they were trying for.

When he came back from London late at night, before she could tell him about the test, he came into her bed and shagged the brain out of her, or so it felt. She understood when he told her about his father dying that he had needed something real, but it also made her feel defective in a weird way when she had to tell him that she was not pregnant. She did not know if he would want his father to know the Holmes bloodline would not be extinct, or if he would let the old man go without telling him, but she had felt bad, as if she was not doing her part of the deal. Lord knew he was doing his fair share, willingly and happily.

"Well, if you don't succeed at first…" He had said.

And they had tried again.

The fact was, it was becoming harder and harder for her to draw the line between what was temporary and what was not. She did not want to throw away their friendship, but at the same time, she was not sure she would be able to look at him with another woman and not feel jealousy. It was not rational, and she knew it, but things were shifting. She wondered if he felt the same or if he managed to stay completely detached, waiting till she was wit child in order to go back to his Irregulars.

And that was the reason she found herself needing to remind her subconscious that she was honest and did not lie, as she stared at a commercial in a magazine for a contraceptive implant.

It would be undetectable, and Sherlock would not know better, and she would keep him a little longer (or three years if she let the implant run its course) but it was so deceptive she wanted to slap herself.

She was not in love. Perhaps she was. However, she knew how she was, how normalcy bored her to tears, and that the only reason she wanted this child with Sherlock was because raising it would the least normal thing they could ever do. With him, it would be a constant challenge. He would never change overnight, and suddenly stop brooding or lacking empathy at times, but he had some paternal instinct, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Kitty was a perfect example of that, and in a weird way, so was Clyde. No one had forced him to put on the tortoise the clothes Ms. Hudson had knit for it, yet he had. Sure he would say it amused him, but through the years she had witnessed him do several things that felt of little importance that in the great scheme of things proved he was changing.

So she stared, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth, as she considered that while some women used babies in order to keep a man from leaving them, she was considering using not getting pregnant in order to keep Sherlock in her bed.

"This is not me," she said again.

The thought was utterly tempting though, yet ultimately wrong. She put away the ad, and started working on their latest case.

.

"Watson, you're pregnant," Sherlock announced as they were in bed.

"What?" She exclaimed, pushing him away when she had been just on the edge of orgasm.

"Your nipples. They're darker. They're also much more sensitive. I could probably make you come with proper breast stimulation at this stage. Your breasts are fuller. You eat at odd hours, and you ingest food you would normally never consider."

Trust him to be clinical when delivering a bombshell.

Ever since she had told herself she would let nature run its course and she would not trap him, no matter how hard it would be for her to let him go when the baby was conceived, she had been overworked or so it felt. They had case after case, working at odd hours, shagging out of schedule too, and she had not had time to overthink her dilemma though it was still there at the back of her mind.

She ran into the bathroom, and looked at herself naked. She heard him get up but she could not stop staring at her reflection in the mirror. He was right, at least about the signs he had described. Her breasts were not the same as they had always been.

"Oh fuck." She said, and immediately regretted it as he had heard her.

He looked at her with a perplex look on his face.

"Don't…. Don't you want to carry my evil spawn anymore?"

Sherlock Holmes never stuttered. He was genuinely distressed.

"Of course I want it," she said.

And there was the awkwardness she had dreaded, she thought, as she didn't dare touch him to let him know she was still very much in.

"Then why the expletive?"

"I need to take a test."

"But we were in the middle of sex…"

Her eyes fell on his lips and she remembered the delight they had been bringing her seconds before. Was she supposed, pun intended, to kiss it all goodbye.

Wait.

"Wait." She said.

He stood very still, naked and ready, but respectful of her wishes.

"When did you notice I was probably pregnant, as we still need to take a test to be sure?"

"Ten days ago. You have not had your period in over six weeks either. Easy assumption."

"And we're still shagging?"

He looked embarrassed as he started scratching his head.

"As you said, I'm no doctor. I could be wrong."

"But you probably are not. For ten days, we have been doing the nasty on any surface, horizontal or not because of our crazy workload, and you never mentioned I was pregnant?"

He tried to avoid her stare, something so uncharacteristic of who he was.

"I'm an addict Watson," he finally said. "I didn't mean for it to happen when we started this, but… Well, I'm an addict. With a new addiction."

As far as "I love you's" went, this was by far the one most people would have considered the worst, but to Joan, it was magical.

"Good thing I'm an addict too."

He looked up at her, and there was a smile on his lips, as he took in the not so hidden meaning, and what it entailed.

"With our luck, when this one is born, there'll be another coming soon after."

"I'm game, if you are," she said, looking deep into his eyes.

"I've always believed Clyde needed more company anyway", he said, and she smiled. "Not to mention Mrs. Hudson. I give her new relationship eight months before she ends up on our couch again. I'm sure she would help.

They stood grinning, like complete idiots naked in their bathroom. They would never be normal, and their relationship would never be what people expected according to society's standards, but it worked for them.

"Before I take the test, how about you make sure you've actually knocked me up for good?" She said, with a teasing smile.

"An astute observation, Watson," he said, as he came and swept her up in his arms like she was a bag of potatoes. "One can never be too sure."

He kicked the bedroom door behind him before tossing her on the bed, as she found herself giggling, happy, and Lord help them, horny.

If he spent more time kissing her indeed blacker nipples, she barely noticed, and very soon they were back to where they had stopped when he had talked out loud.

When she took that test that morning, and it turned out positive, she was not afraid anymore. So in celebration, she jumped his bones.

Felt right. Especially after he called her his first "Not Irregular".

"Such a romantic at heart," she joked, and he shushed her with a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is just a small vignette I could not get out of my head. Comments would be lovely!

Joan woke up as she felt something climbing her pregnant belly, and it was not the first time.

« Watson, I fear you've become the Himalaya to Clyde, it's too much of a hike for him to get to the top of your stomach, » Sherlock said from the side of the bed, and she hid a smile, careful not to move.

The tortoise was indeed trying to climb this new mountain, with some lettuce in its mouth. As she had taken up to sleeping in a t-shirt who usually ended up riding up over her belly and panties, the animal was on her skin, and it looked a bit strained as if it was indeed having difficulties with its travel.

In a way, it was all her fault. When she had gotten the nesting instinct a couple of weeks before, she had insisted for the tortoise to be moved into her room, or their room, as Sherlock slept there more often than not, and she had told him she wanted to be sure nothing happened to their pet. The consulting detective had given her a look, that said that he thought her partially insane, but she knew he had read up on pregnancies when they had gotten the positive test, and that he had to know that it was not about her losing her wits, but about a need to create an environment she could control.

"Come on Buddy, just a few centimeters, and you'll be the first tortoise to have made it up to the Himalaya," she told the pet, still laying still.

They watched in silence as Clyde kept a determined yet slow pace. When he reached her belly button, which was now protuberant, she almost broke into applause.

"Well done kiddo," she told the tortoise, before she took hold of it carefully and returned it to its habitat.

"Did you send Clyde to wake me up?" She asked Sherlock.

It would have made no sense. Pregnant as she was, neither Gregson and Bell would allow her to consult anymore.

"I set him free on the bed, I will admit to that. I have noticed that Clyde seems to think that your stomach is an obstacle he must overcome. I already set him free three time this week, and each time he tried to climb over, but he only succeeded today."

"Jesus, that kid of ours, we're going to screw him or her up so bad," she said.

"Nonsense. We will not treat the child to come as a tortoise."

"You know what I mean," she said, giving him this look where she dared him to contradict her, and there it was.

From time to time, she'd catch this in his eyes, this insecurity, and dare she say it, this almost-fear, as if he was wondering they had gone insane and if they would be capable to raise a child.

He tried to look away, but she went to him, knowing that he would never ask for reinsurance, but he sure needed it.

"It's too late to change our minds anyway, not that I would want to. I get scared sometimes, not because I doubt your abilities to love…"

"You're an addiction, Watson and I mean no offense."

She pulled herself against his back, best she could in her pregnant state, and he stood still, as he still had trouble dealing with non-sexual interaction, and she hated the fact that he had been robbed from a somewhat normal childhood.

"You're seriously deluded Holmes, and I do mean offense. I know you thought the love of your life was Irene Adler, and you used that theory as a way to shield yourself from serious connections to people. I guess I have to thank Fiona for allowing you to see that Irene had not tainted everything and that you did not need to have one love of your life, then just a string of lovers. Now, you may not say that you love me, and I don't hold a grudge there, but we both know I'm more than an addiction".

"Fiona was easy, in the sense that she couldn't lie. I can't always tell what you're thinking," he said, and she noticed he did not pick up the part about Irene being the love of his life.

"She was what you needed at a time, to allow to realize that there was more to you than you had thought."

"She sent baby clothes this morning. She wrote a card saying she picked neutral colors as she didn't want to impose a gender on our child by giving it gender-identifying clothes."

"That's nice. I'll send her an email. As for the fact that you can't always tell if I'm lying, I think I should thank you for that, for it is in its own way a compliment. I lie. I lied when I first threw up at the precinct and pretended I was having food poisoning so that the captain would let me work on cases longer than he would have if he had known I was with child. I lied to my mother, told her it was an accident and it did not give any credit to her previous assertion about what a good life for me would be. I lied to your father when he asked if you were the father. I just don't lie to you. I hope you can trust that."

'It's not easy…."

"I know. It's not simple for me either, for different reasons. But hell, you let me bring Clyde and his whole habitat in our bedroom, and you didn't call me crazy when I told you that you needed to put him in the bathroom while we were shagging. It doesn't make things easy, but we are not who we were when we first me. We're not the same persons we were when we started jumping each other's bones. Let's try and see If we like the persons we become when our spawn is here. Who knows? Yu may end using the verb love again…"

He grabbed one of her hands, as he seemed to think everything she had said over.

"You will not be Morland."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you're not right now and you won't turn into him over night. You want our kid, whether it's a boy or a girl. You never mentioned a legacy. Do you think your father would have been fine with having a daughter?"

"I know he has a couple of them, around the globe. But it is true that he only seems them as tokens he left to their mothers."

"You know, the guy does try sometimes but at other time, he remains a complete ass."

"Aren't you afraid I will turn into him?" He asked again.

"Not for a second. You can lie to me, but I know you won't or you'll have a great reason that I will then show was not so great and you'll learn. You want that kid. You're not an ass. If it wasn't for your intelligence, I might even wonder if your mother ever fooled around with the mailman as you are so different."

They remained in silence and he finally placed a small kiss on her hand, before saying:

"You should get dressed, last echography in 45 minutes until our evil span is due."

"Now that's the spirit," she told him, kissing his back before breaking away from him to put on clothes.

She heard him start working on her breakfast downstairs, and she smiled at herself in the mirror, not out of pride but just because she was happy.

It was not easy but Lord was it worth it. Day after day, they were slowly getting there, and she wouldn't change their twisted weird love story with a normal one for anything in the world.


End file.
